


i carry your heart with me

by peachesandlesbians



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, No Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandlesbians/pseuds/peachesandlesbians
Summary: Clothes start to appear in Andy's closet one day.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 29
Kudos: 301





	i carry your heart with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elle_nic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_nic/gifts).



> thanks to elle for telling me to write this when i was on the fence about it. enjoy!

It happened so subtly at first. A black leather jacket found its way into the leftmost side of the closet Andy shared with Miranda. But it definitely wasn’t her dad’s hand-me-down Harley Davidson. Oh, no. It was much different. 

The first thing Andy notified was that it was _silky_. Not just silky, but soft too. Warmth radiated from the leather, and when Andy tried it on, it clung to her body like it was tailored. It wasn’t too bulky; the zipper in the front made sure she could opt for more of a casual look. In the front were two chest pockets with zippers, along with two usual hand pockets, with an _additional_ hidden pocket on the inside. Not only was this jacket one of—if not _the_ —most comfortable items she’d ever worn in her life, it was convenient too. Whoever owned the jacket was a very lucky person. 

But that person was certainly not her, which was why she trotted down to Miranda’s study. 

“Hey, honey?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you hang this up in my space accidentally?” Andy held up the jacket, watching as Miranda barely glanced up from The Book. 

“Don’t you know I never do things accidentally? I don’t need it now.” Miranda tapped her chin with her finger in an adorable gesture Andy associated with being on the verge of a breakthrough. “So…”

“So, I'll leave you to it. Sorry to bother you, sweetheart.” 

That got Miranda’s attention. “You never bother me, Andrea. Ever. Was there anything else you needed?”

Andy chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to Miranda’s forehead. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at dinner.”

And that was that. She assumed Miranda would take the jacket back when she needed it, but a week passed without any mention of it. Then another, and another until one morning, Andy shrugged it on and rushed out the door, not noticing Miranda’s small smile. 

But it happened again, this time with a rather daring white blouse. Ruffles adorned the bottom of the sleeves and along the front for a classic Victorian look. Lace patterns of cut symmetrical squares and spirals showed some skin, which Andy found herself liking when she tried the blouse on. It wasn’t something she would have thought of, but it was perfect. With the top two buttons undone, she looked feminine. Sexy. Confident. 

How strange. 

Perhaps Andy was poking the metaphorical dragon, but she paired the top with some black slacks and made her way into the kitchen. 

“Woah, you look fancy. Are you going anywhere special?” Cassidy asked, taking a bite of buttered toast. 

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Don’t eat with your mouth full, Bobbsey. And please, don’t use ‘woah’ ever in my presence again.”

“Cass is right though. You look fantastic!” Caroline smiled, taking the heat off her sister. 

“Thanks, kiddo. And no, it’s just a regular day for me. I suppose this looks a bit too formal for my workplace though.” Andy frowned, taking another look at her outfit. As much as she liked it, perhaps it would go back in the closet for a while. 

“No. Who’s to say you can’t dress up for yourself?” Three heads swiveled to stare at Miranda, who coloured faintly under their gaze. “Well. You outshine every and any model, Andrea. Why not grace the world with your beauty?”

“You really have a way with words, Mom,” Cassidy said. 

Andy didn’t agree, because she was too busy gazing at Miranda. She blushed even more but held her chin up defiantly. Andy slowly smiled, Miranda glanced away, and Andy shook her head, letting Caroline capture her attention. 

“What’s for dinner?”

“Jeez, Caro, we just finished breakfast!” Soon, the matter of wearing perhaps too fancy clothes was dropped. And yet, Andy couldn’t forget the almost timid look in Miranda’s eyes and the way she glanced at Andy over her newspaper. Countless times, even. But nothing seemed to be wrong, per se, so there was nothing more to talk about.

Well, until the whole ordeal got three times more suspicious with the new appearance of a necklace. An emerald teardrop that dangled low, with a golden chain. A rather, Andy suspected, expensive necklace. 

With the other clothes, Andy waited to put them on, more out of caution with anything else. But the necklace called to her, like a siren, and there was nothing she could do but answer the call.

Was it possible for jewelry to feel crafted with love? Perhaps this necklace was. Andy couldn’t quite place why it felt so intimate to her, but something about it felt so _right_.

“You look wonderful.” 

Andy yelped and spun around, spotting Miranda half-hidden in the shadows. “Jesus, Miranda! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I know Page Six loves to accuse me of killing my failed assistants and using their blood for my midnight rituals, but I’ve never actually done it.”

“Yet.”

“Indeed.”

They both shared a chuckle as Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda’s neck, playing with the strands of hair that escaped from their original position. 

“I meant what I said. You look heavenly.”

“Oh, my. Heavenly is quite a compliment.” 

“And you, my darling, are quite something. A wondrous creature I am constantly in awe of.” 

Andy traces Miranda’s cheekbone, unabashed affection glimmering in her eyes. “What have I done to deserve you?”

“I think, Andrea, I should be the one to be asking that.” 

Andy took the final step toward Miranda, and any space between them disappeared. “You are the love of my life, you know that?”

Miranda smiled, and although she was never one for wide grins and teeth, love was always in her eyes, movement, and posture. How could Andy forget how loved she was when all she needed to do was glance Miranda’s way?

* * *

The last straw was the Chanel boots. It wasn’t the pair she originally wore, but a brand new, knee-high, brown pair. She had suspected the clothes were intentionally placed in her closet, but this just screamed Miranda. It was time to discuss this gifting habit, she decided. 

One night, just before they fell asleep, Andy whispered, “Miranda? Are you awake?”

“I am now.”

“Sorry. But you always do that to me.”

“Fair.” Miranda always woke up Andy at the worst times when she finally gathered her courage. Something about the dark, the drowsiness they both felt allowed them to talk about the things that seemed too tender or too difficult.

“Miranda?” Andy whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you put clothes in my closet?”

“Because they’re your clothes.”

Andy nudged Miranda. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Because.” 

“What, is it a kink for you or something?” Andy trailed her fingertips down Miranda’s shoulder, more humor in her voice than anything else. 

“No! Well, yes, maybe, but no! No. Mostly.” Sometimes, Miranda curled up in a ball, both metaphorically and physically, insinuating that she was feeling too vulnerable.

When that happened, she just needed to be held. With deft hands, Andy ridded them both off their clothes and tossed the duvet over them. Bare skin pressed against bare skin, making them both relax. 

“Do you remember when we were in that weird limbo of dating and not dating?”

“Because you were too thick-headed to realize I was courting you the whole time?” 

Andy playfully nipped Miranda’s shoulder. “No, silly. It was because you were giving off mixed signals.”

“I sent you a bouquet of flowers every time we saw each other. How is that giving off mixed signals?”

“Hey, I was confused!”

“Clearly. Do you have a point here?”

Andy bit her lip at the thinly-veiled amusement in Miranda’s voice. “Yes, actually. I sent you books to read every so often. Do you remember?”

Miranda sighed in what could only be described as a _longing_ manner. “Oh, yes. That was … those moments were very dear to me, Andrea. It was like you were thinking of me.” She stiffened as all the pieces of the puzzle came to her. “Ah.”

“Mhm.” Andy squeezed Miranda, feeling, rather than seeing, her melt into her body. “Exactly, honey. Every time I stumbled upon a passage that was so _you_ , I had to show you. I was thinking of you all the time it spilt into my reading. That was my way of telling you I loved you. And, I suppose, you gifting me beautiful clothes is your way of expressing that?”

“Well—” Miranda turned around so Andy could see those ocean eyes she loved so much. They held something akin to agony, jagged pain that tore at Andy’s heart.

“Hey, it’s okay. I love you. You don’t have to explain anything to me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I just—fashion is a huge part of me. You know that. I tried to do this with my ex-husbands, but they got so upset. They thought I was trying to mold them into someone better, but I was trying to show them I wanted to make an effort. That I could make an effort.” The pain seemed to go away, then come back twice as painful. “But it’s so different with you. I would never change you, Andrea. You are so stunning without the clothes. I only wanted to—to have a part of me with you always. You seemed to enjoy what I did, and I simply wanted to make you happy. Please believe me.”

All this Miranda said while gripping Andy’s shoulders, searching her eyes almost frantically. A turmoil of emotions crashed into her. This was what Andy wanted her whole life: to be loved so passionately, so desperately.

Nails dug into her shoulders, and Andy, acting on pure instinct, rolled so she was propped up above Miranda. Her consuming fear was overwashed by the sheer fire in Andy’s eyes. “I swear, I believe you. There is nothing to worry about. I know you love me in the ways you can. I _know_ that, Miranda.” Andy paused to nuzzle the lovely arch of Miranda’s neck, noting how she relaxed. “I love the clothes. I love the effort you show me every single day.” Although Andy’s voice quieted, the firm conviction was still present. “I love _you_.”

It was enough for Miranda. More than enough, in fact, for she pulled down Andy completely and let out a satisfied, relieved sigh. “Alright.”

“Alright? We’re okay?” 

“Very okay, my dearest.” 

No more words were needed. Miranda slid her hand up to interlace their fingers. Their embrace started light, but Andy held on tight and didn’t let go, even when she fell asleep. Even in the dream world, they were together. 

* * *

_“i carry your heart with me(i carry it in_

_my heart)i am never without it(anywhere_

_i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done_

_by only me is your doing,my darling)” —_ i carry your heart with me, e.e. cummings

  
  



End file.
